


Movement

by to_one_thing_constant_never



Series: Wasteland, Baby! [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Character Study, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Title from a Hozier Song, steamy for two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_one_thing_constant_never/pseuds/to_one_thing_constant_never
Summary: A character study plus some ineffable fluff using the song "Movement" by Hozier as inspiration.Author heavily projecting onto Aziraphale.My head-cannon that Aziraphale and Crowley are both ADHD icons comes through a little bit in this one.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wasteland, Baby! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664140
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Movement

Movement

People tended to forget that Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, was built to be a warrior. No one remembered the sword-wielding protector with stark white wings and a thousand-yard stare when the stuffy old bookstore owner was sitting in front of them. So it was easy to mistake Aziraphale’s constant fidgeting as a sign of shyness or nervous energy. But the truth of the matter was that the angel simply didn’t know what to do with all his stray energy. He had heard it called “stimming” before; the need to process external stimuli by soothing oneself with self-produced stimuli. The archangels called him scatter-brained, Sargent Shadwell called him a pansy, and his customers thought him generally odd. He wiggled; he always corrected people’s grammar; he rubbed his waistcoat threadbare; he made little noises to himself; he just generally couldn’t keep still! Some people (Crowley) found his habits endearing; others (seemingly everyone else) found them annoying. But he feared what might manifest if he let all his energy build up.

All angels were granted supernatural senses. But as a Principality, it was his job to protect, to guard, to serve humanity. So Aziraphale’s inability to ignore the waves of constant information from his surroundings could not be turned off, dulled, brushed aside, or anything of the sort. His Heavenly design was to be a warrior, but he came across instead as a worrier. Not as if it made a difference to Aziraphale what people thought of his “stimming,” anyway. The young residents of SoHo that called him Auntie, Papa Fell, Ezra or Mummsy told him that his constant fidgeting was one of his many quirks that made him so approachable. He always smiled at that, happy to know that those under his charge felt safe around their self-assigned Principality.

Everyone knew that Crowley was a snake. Of course, the mortals thought that Lucifer was the Original Tempter, Serpent of Eden, et cetera, and even other demons conveniently forgot who _really_ lead to humanity’s downfall, even a blind man could tell that Crowley was serpentine. It was in the way he spoke, with his prolonged sibilants and a voice dripping with false promise. It was in how he walked, as if confused on how legs worked, but completely certain in which direction he wanted to go. Every movement was calculated; no muscle moved that he did not intend to; and no energy was wasted.

But all that poise was gone now. Crowley’s hands roamed Aziraphale’s broad shoulders of their own accord as he licked and sucked at the angel’s neck.

“Crowley, please let’s move upstairs…” Aziraphale said shakily. They were in the backroom of the bookshop, barely out of view of the expansive windows that faced the street. Neither of them remembered who kissed who first, only that it was lovely, and they had no intention of stopping.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned again, as the demon continued to absolutely ravage his neck. Crowley clearly wasn’t listening, and was attempting to take off Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled with a growl in his voice. Crowley shot backward, shocked.

“What in… where the Heaven did that voice come from?” He sounded scared, but Aziraphale noticed that his pupils were still very wide. He took note of that for later.

“From… Heaven?” Aziraphale replied, a little sheepishly.

“Hng?”

“Well dear boy, you do know that I was in charge of a splatoon… in the…” Aziraphale didn’t like mentioning the first Great War in Heaven in general, let alone while he had tented trousers. “I was a captain and I had to give orders and such like!”

“Wee-ell, how interesting,” Crowley said waggling his eyebrows. Aziraphale could feel himself blush. “Then why am I the one who’s always taking charge?”

Aziraphale frowned. “But you said—”

“Oh angel, I was only kidding around no need to pout! Come on, sweetheart let’s go upstairs.”

Aziraphale didn’t move.

“Sweetheart… Angel?”

Aziraphale continued to stare straight ahead.

“Angel, is something wrong? I didn’t want to— oofph!” Crowley had been interrupted by being swiftly hoisted up over Aziraphale’s shoulder. Once he got his breath back, Crowley started hissing frantically.

“Put me down!”

“No.”

“What are you doing?!”

“Marching you upstairs. I… well, I gave you an order earlier… and…” Aziraphale was stuttering. Stuttering and blushing like a virgin as he carried his boyfriend over his shoulder with one arm effortlessly as he climbed the stairs. The juxtaposition was not lost on Crowley, who had stopped squirming. He smiled: only his angel could be so adorable while also trying to be domineering.

“I gave you an order,” he tried again as they reached the bedroom. He plopped Crowley gently down onto the bed. “And I expected you to follow it! No more misbehaving, yes?”

Crowley thanked all the saints above and devils bellow as Aziraphale took off his waistcoat.

“Sir, yes sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Can I have a wahoo in the comments? 
> 
> Relavent lyrics:  
> "You move without movin..."  
> "So move me baby, shake like the bow of a willow tree..."  
> "Move like a bird of paradise, move like an odd site come out at night..."


End file.
